Jabdbkskakbgxiw He's Doing The Little Tippy Tappies Sjndbskskofg

This happened to me and now I can't walk correctly anymore

And I'm pretty sure this is what I said to my dog who was waiting for his daily walk, along with an apology.

Price: *crouches to hide from a enemy*

Price: *knees immediately crack loudly*

Enemy: *turns and stares at him*

Price: You know what- just kill me

Okay so umm

I have a account out there named like im so tired or something of the sort. So that is/was my account. So yeah.

Not sure what I'd be more afraid of, the knife for obvious purposes or the spatula for the less obvious, but more embarrassing purposes

Okokokokok so I usually don't reblog anything that I personally read for the sake of a family member who follows my acct

HOWEVER

I have been looking everywhere for this fic I stg. So I'm saving it for myself later on bc I love this fic a li-ittle too much (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 1: The Change

“Happy birthday, to you,” your teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and classmates finish singing to you.

“Thank you, everyone,” you giggle, happy that everyone did something special for your birthday in the middle of class.

You’re now six-years-old and your Momma’s promised to take you to Little Luigi’s Pizza Place after school, where you’ll get to open your presents from her, as well as eat all the pizza you want and have a cookie pizza for free! You begged her to let you stay home, but she laughed and said that she had to meet her publisher for her upcoming book, but she promised that after she was done, she’d come check you out and the two of you would go celebrate your birthday.

You look up at the clock (good thing it’s digital, because you haven’t learned to read the old clocks yet!) and see that it’s almost time for lunch.

“Come on, Momma,” you mutter to yourself. “Get here, already.”

Seriously, you didn’t plan to eat lunch, so you didn’t bother packing lunch today!

Just then, the intercom above the door chimes.

“Mrs. Palmer,” the school secretary asks.

“Yes?”

“Can you please send Y/N Gould to the office, please? There’s someone here to see him.”

“Yes,” you cheer, making a few in the class laugh.

“Of course,” she responds before the device clicks off.

You grab your backpack and toss it over your back before rushing towards the door.

“Bye, Y/N,” one classmate says as you pass her.

“Happy birthday,” another says as you near the door.

“Enjoy your birthday, Y/N,” Mrs. Palmer says, her usual bright smile on her face. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Remember to have your worksheet done.”

And with that, you leave the room and skip down the hall to the main office, happy that your school is small so you don’t have to walk far. As you do, all you can think about is all the pizza you’re about to eat! And the chocolate chip cookie pizza that you get after that! And don’t forget about the presents! Maybe you’ll get the new Pokémon Platinum game for your DS, or a new stuffed animal, or maybe a new movie!

The suspense is practically tearing you apart and you enter the office, ready to greet your Momma when you see… Sheriff Foley. And he looks… sad. You look to the secretary, who’s standing behind him, and she has the same sad look.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Sheriff Foley,” you say, looking around to find Momma, but not finding her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Momma?”

“Son,” he says as the secretary begins to cry a bit. “I have some bad news.”

You feel a weird feeling in your stomach, like when you eat a bunch of ice cream and get sick, but this feeling is worse than that.

“What?”

“It’s about your momma. I got a call from the police in Vegas and they said there had been a car accident. Some drunk fool leaving a casino hit your mother’s car.”

You feel your heart stop at the words “hit” and “mother.”

“Is she ok,” you manage to say. “She’s at the hospital, right?”

The secretary’s crying becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, son,” he says, a tear falling from his eye. “He was going too fast when he hit her. She’s gone.”

“Gone? Like missing?” Now, you’re crying. “Why can’t they find her?”

“No, gone as in she’s no longer with us.”

“Like… she’s gone to heaven,” you whisper.

He nods and it’s then you feel your entire world collapse. You remember what Momma said about going to heaven when you saw a squirrel asleep on the side of the road. She’d said that he had gone to heaven after falling asleep and that he wouldn’t be waking up again. That he’d always be there.

“No,” you cry, tears and snot falling from your face. “No, she can’t be in heaven! She said she’d be here!”

Sheriff Foley takes you into his arms as you cry.

The next few days go by in a blur. You stay with Sheriff Foley and his wife until the funeral. Unfortunately, the accident was so bad that the casket had to stay closed, so you weren’t able to see her one last time before she’s put in her grave. The whole town of Goodsprings is there; she was an author writing best-selling romance novels set during the Age of Sail and a pillar of the community, so everyone wanted to be there to say their final goodbyes to her and their condolences to you.

You said nothing during the whole thing. You hadn’t said anything since Sheriff Foley told you that Momma had gone to heaven and that she wouldn’t be back. The only noise to leave you is the sound of crying.

“Y/N,” he says as you watch the grave be filled with dirt. “When we leave, we’ll have to go by your house. You need to pack anything you need.”

“Why,” you ask, your voice sore from crying for days.

“Because a man is waiting there for you and when you have everything you need, he’ll take you to McCarran Airport. From there, you’ll go to Gotham City in New Jersey.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, first you lose Momma and now you’re losing your home?

“Why do I have to leave,” you say, tears streaming down your face.

“Because the county did some checking and found your father through a DNA test.”

You freeze at that. Your Daddy?

“Momma, do I have a Daddy,” you asked her once.

“You do, baby, but he doesn’t know about you,” she answered. “We met years ago, back when Momma was young and dumb. When I found out I was having you, I couldn’t find him. That’s when I realized I had to act right.” She rubbed her hand through your hair. “It’s thanks to you that I’m not like that anymore.”

That conversation goes through your head as you ride back to your house. You’re actually going to meet your Daddy? When you pull up to your house you see a fancy car sitting in the driveway and an elderly man in a suit standing next to it, watching you as you get out.

“I’m sorry, who’re you,” Sheriff Foley asks.

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man says, bowing a little. “Butler to the Wayne Family. I apologize, Sheriff, but I’m afraid Master Bruce was unable to get away. Urgent business at Wayne Enterprises demanded his attention.”

“More urgent than his son?”

You can see the butler slightly flinch at that, despite how good he tries to hide it.

“I understand your frustration. I expressed the same sentiments, but Master Bruce couldn’t be persuaded to leave the matter to Mr. Fox.” He looks down at you. “I trust this is young Master Y/N?”

You can’t help but duck behind the sheriff’s legs to hide from him.

“Yeah, this is him.”

“I’m glad to meet you, though I wish it was under more joyous circumstances. You have my most sincere condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the ground.

“Come on, son, let’s get all your stuff packed.”

The three of you spend the next hour packing all your toys and clothes into cardboard boxes. When asked about your bed, dresser, and other larger things, Alfred said a room had already been prepared for you with a king sized bed and a dresser with room for all your clothes and more.

“Should you require anything else, I will ensure Master Bruce provides it.”

“What will happen to the house,” you finally ask Sheriff Foley, afraid for what he would say.

“Your momma already paid off her house and her will said that everything that’s hers goes to you. For now, the county will care for it until you turn eighteen, which is when you can inherit it.”

Hearing that should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t because you’d have to wait so long to come back and even then, Momma still wouldn’t be here. As the two adults packed up the last of the boxes in the fancy rental car, you slipped away into your Momma’s office at the back of the first story. You slide open the doors, expecting to see her at her desk, working on her latest story like you’d done so many times before, but this time, an empty room and silence greets you.

You enter her office and hop into the big revolving chair, her favorite perfume still lingering from the morning of your birthday. You look at the desk and find something that takes your breath away: her favorite gold ink pen. One day, you’d asked her why your last name was Gould and she’d told you that your family came from a long line of goldsmiths who once made jewelry and other small things for rich people. Momma’s Daddy still worked with metal, even after the family practice was shut down, and when she said she was going to become a writer, he made her a gold ink pen to bring her good luck. You pick it up, looking at the beautiful design, and begin to tear up.

She carried it everywhere she went, so seeing it here cements the fact that she’s not coming back. Maybe if she wasn’t in a big hurry that morning, she would’ve remembered to take it with her and the accident never would’ve happened. And she’d still be here with you.

“Y/N,” the Sheriff says as he enters the office. “We finished packing everything. Are you ready to go?”

You want to say no and refuse to leave, but you know that you can’t stay here. You quietly pocket the pen and follow him to the car, where Alfred waits for you.

“Alright, son, be good for Mr. Pennyworth here. Do what he says and be a good boy like your momma taught you.” He gives you a hug and you wish it would never end, because then you’d never have to leave your home. “You’ll be back before you know it, and your home will be here waiting for you.”

A with that, you get into the car with Mr. Pennyworth and begin the drive to the airport. You use the mirror to see your house one last time, seeing it get smaller and smaller until it’s out of sight.

“I know this is sudden after the loss of your mother, but I promise Master Bruce and I will do everything we can to make Wayne Manor a home for you.”

“What’s it like?”

“The manor? It’s a large estate with a long and storied history that dates back to the early days of Gotham. There’s plenty of rooms for you to explore.”

“And what about my Daddy? What’s he like?”

“Master Bruce is a skilled businessman and one of Gotham’s biggest socialites. He’s also the adoptive father of Masters Dick and Jason.”

“He already has kids? Would they be my brothers?”

You’d heard of several of your classmates having older and younger siblings and had thought about having a brother or a sister. What would it be like to carry around someone younger than you or be care for by someone older than you.

“Master Dick would be your older brother, but he’s now living at the manor right now. He’s off finding himself right now, but I have no doubt that he’ll be back one day.”

“What about Jason?”

Mr. Pennyworth frowns at your words and you feel afraid that you’ve said something wrong.

“Master Jason would be your older brother, as well, but he was taken from us. With any luck, he and your mother have met one another.”

Oh…

“When did he go to heaven?”

“He left us a few months ago, but it feels just like yesterday.”

And with that, the talk is over. You two arrive at the airport and after the butler returns the rental car, he guides you to the gate where a private jet awaits the two of you. You can’t help but be amazed that you’re riding in a private jet that looks so much better than the ones you’ve seen on tv. You sit in one of the seats and it’s way softer than your bed.

“Master Y/N, we’re getting ready for takeoff,” the butler says as he puts his seatbelt on. “Put your seatbelt on.”

You do as you’re told and before you know it, you feel the jet begin to move. You hurry to look out the window to see everything moving past before the jet begins to fly. You stare out the window, watching Nevada, the state you’ve called home, get smaller and smaller until you’re above the clouds, unable to see anything, even the massive buildings of the Strip, which could be seen for miles.

It’s then you realize that this is real, that you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known and won’t be back for years and tears begin to fall from your face. You’ve spent the last few days crying so much that you’d think that you’d think that you would run out of tears, but apparently not. Not wanting to disturb Mr. Pennyworth, you face the window and bite your lower lip to stop making noises.

Somehow the flight seemed to be both long lasting and not long enough, because eventually, you saw a city show up below you. You squint your eyes to get a better look through the smog and see many tall buildings, all of the having those scary stone creatures you saw on a movie once.

“Welcome to Gotham City, Master Y/N.”

A/N: I’m hoping to make this a series that sees somewhat regular updates, but don’t quote me on that. I’ve been getting back into Resident Evil and I look up Yandere Batfamily stuff on this site so much it’s not even funny. Sorry if the first chapter was so long, but I thought if the first chapter was long enough, people would forgive me if future chapters are a bit lacking. Also, this series is heavily influenced by several of my favorite users, like @acid-ixx , @gotham-daydreams , @luludeluluramblings , and @darkstaria . You should totally check them all out.

Very punk /nj

Remember kids: one of the punkest things you can do right now is to look out for your neighbors and make sure they are safe

Well did Larry ask him to resign?

obsessed with this image

"I was just telling your husband how adorable it is that hes British!"

anyone who decides that being from any other nationality/ethnicity/culture/etc that is not your own as 'adorable!' or 'so cute!' Or 'so different!' just because its foreign and different from your day-to-day life is actually fuckin bonkers.

Love your work @mlmxreader ❤️

Yanks | Simon Ghost Riley x trans!m!reader

Anonymous asked: The second request I had was for simon riley x pakitani!ftm reader where they are married and one of the American soldier tries to flirt with Simon but Simon obviously shuts him down, only for reader to get jealous and show the others who simon belongs to with this prompt "Everyone should know that you're mine"

Sorry if this is confusing or specific :)

-🦝

summary: Ghost doesn't mean to make you jealous, but when you are, he can't say he doesn't like it.

tws: threats, jealousy, swearing

Shifting from foot to foot, Ghost glared at the American soldier through his mask, his jaw clenched tightly as he considered whether or not the best option would be knocking their teeth out, but then, he supposed he would never get the chance, as American soldiers were more than cowardly and more than terrified of any real fighting; but they wouldn't leave him alone, and Ghost was getting fed up of their advances and their flirtatious commentary.

"You're arms are so big," they gushed, running a hand through their hair and biting their lip in such a way that it made Ghost wonder if they had something stuck in their teeth. "And your accent is so hot! I love British!"

Ghost narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he scoffed and pulled the glove off of his left hand, holding it up with his fingers splayed. "I have a husband, yank."

"Oh my god," they beamed, blushing visibly. "Yank! That is so cute! Oh my god, do you like tea?"

"Not really, I prefer the coffee my husband makes me every morning," he grumbled, rolling his eyes and doing his best not to lose his temper. Usually, physical violence against Americans was your thing.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" They squealed, grinning. "Please tell me you adore the royal family as much as I do!"

Ghost shook his head. "I'm an anti-monarchist. I want them all guillotined."

Like a knight in shining armour, like King Arthur coming to the defence of Wales, you finally showed up; wearing your Pakistan Air Force uniform, Ghost could tell it was you from the moment he saw the dull green jumpsuit, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He melted against you, leaning into your side when you wrapped your arm around his waist and, with great disdain, looked the American up and down with a scowl.

"The fuck are you hanging around my husband for?" You spat, squaring up to them as Ghost gently removed your arm from his waist so that he could hold your hand. "Huh? The fuck do you want?!"

The American took a step back. "I was just telling your husband how adorable it is that he's British!"

You glared at them, letting go of Ghost's hand and grabbing the American by the collar of their shirt, pulling them close as you snarled and snapped at them. "You fucking leave my husband alone. He's fucking mine. And neither of us take kindly to stupid yankees getting in our way - do I fucking make myself clear?"

They nodded, fear in their eyes; Americans always got so scared when someone directly confronted them and challenged them. "Y-yes, Sir... I'm so, so, so sorry."

"You talk to him again," you growled. "And I will have the entire Pakistan Air Force on your ass so hard that your fucking grandchildren will feel it. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Sir..."

"You fucking leave him alone," you pushed them, forcing them to tumble backwards and fall onto their back against the dirt. "You fucking leave my husband alone!"

Your entire demeanor changed when you returned to Ghost's side, smiling at him as you dared to give him a quick peck on his mask; although you couldn't see it, you knew that he was smiling behind it as he dared to take your hand in his again.

"It's kinda hot when you get jealous, Flight Lieutenant Riley."

"I know it is," you grinned, giving his hand a little squeeze. "And I know you love to see it, Lieutenant Riley."

"I do," Ghost nodded, lifting up his mask just enough so that his mouth was exposed to you, welcoming you eagerly when you kissed him harshly.

You took his mask off, stuffing it in your pocket as you grabbed his face, your hands on his jaw as he held you tightly by your shirt, pulling you ever closer as he allowed you to take charge; it was harsh, messy, cruelly addictive, and Ghost couldn't stop the feeling that he didn't want it to end.

You stole his breath, slipping your tongue between his lips and captivating every little bit of oxygen that he had, and he was eagerly giving it up to you; a soft moan coming from the back of his throat. Usually, he didn't like public displays of affection, and normally, he hated having to take his mask off in front of others; but in that moment, utterly at your mercy and every whim, he couldn't find it in himself to care. All he wanted was you. All he needed was you.

People were looking, especially the American troops, but Ghost knew that his face was hidden enough with your hands and your face that they wouldn't see any proper details anyway; but then you pulled away, quickly putting his mask over his face, and you grinned. Ghost's chest was heaving as he licked his lips to savour your taste, an excited look in his eyes as he looked you up and down.

"What was that?"

"Everyone should know that you're mine," you whispered hoarsely. "I just wanted to remind them."

He smiled under the mask, nodding slowly; fuck, you were so hot when you were jealous, and he adored it. But he also knew that, if anyone were to make him jealous, he wouldn't react the same; it had happened before, someone had tried to flirt with you and he had gotten jealous, but instead of reacting with such heat and such passion like you did, Ghost only ever walked away. In fact, the only time that he had ever thrown a punch when someone was talking to you, was the handful of times that people had made negative comments about you being trans.

Still, he supposed that it was enough that you were the jealous one.

"I love you." He grumbled the words so softly, and lit up a little when you grinned at him so fucking brightly.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

Everyone deserves soup and/or hot cocoa

it's cold out there, reblog to give a trans man a cup of soump

The few good things that f@c3b00k offers is not even from them, it's from the people.

Saw this on one of my rare visits to Facebook hell. Thought y'all would want to know